Understanding
by Moczo
Summary: Casavir hates Bishop. Bishop hates Casavir. But if the two of them ever want to go adventuring again, they're going to have to come to some sort of understanding.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes:

This is cute, and fluffy. With a tiny bit of gay.

It starts off slow. Have to get the background information out of the way first, of course.

As for your daily dose of SPAM, if you are a member of Facebook and have played Baldur's Gate, I made a Facebook group called The Most Noble Order of the Radiant Heart, and it is very sad with only nine members, so you should totally join. If you don't have Facebook, you should make one and join the group anyway. And play Baldur's Gate.

And if you ask, I will rant about Mask of the Betrayer.

O.

Having a party that mostly consisted of trained warriors and magic-users always gave Grace some peace of mind in the thick of battle. It was nice, she figured, not having to micro-manage her teammates.

As Grace would run to fight an enemy, she always knew that Khelgar would be right in front of her, sprinting damnably fast for someone with such short legs.

Casavir would always be behind her, ready to heal her if necessary but more so complimenting her own fighting style with his, watching her back.

Neeshka would always slink into the shadows, to emerge behind her opponent with two daggers to their back.

Bishop and Grobnar, oddly enough, often fulfilled the same party requirement – they would stay back, Bishop sniping enemies from afar (usually those that Casavir had on the last legs of life, of course) and Grobnar would sing. They also defended the magic casters, Elanee and Qara, from any enemy that got too close.

So as Grace sprinted into the room Zeearie held Shandra captive in, her broadsword out, she expected this to be the case. And for the most part, it was. Khelgar sprinted off to the other side of the room with a loud war-cry that made some of the githyanki run from him (after which he gleefully hunted them down). Elanee and Qara stood back and flung spells while Grobnar sang.

And outside of the room, Casavir and Bishop were having an argument.

"I am _disgusted_ to be associating with you!" Bishop declared heatedly, clearly upset about something, "Do you have any idea how weird that is for _me_ to say? That's a paladin line right there!"

"Bishop-" Casavir looked like he wanted to ram his head into the stones of this structure.

"How _can_ you? Just, just, how _can_ you?"

"It's a matter of personal taste, Bishop. How many times do I have to say that?"

"It is not _personal taste_," Bishop spat Casavir's words back out at him, "It's a matter of knowing good from evil! And you are evil!"

"That's not even close to being funny, Bishop," Casavir deadpanned.

"Oh, what, because _I'm_," Bishop held up his hands and made quotation marks in the air, "'evil' I don't know evil when I see it or something? You'd give me a run for my money. I'm surprised Torm, Tyr or whoever the hells you worship hasn't smited you already."

"It's 'smote,'" Casavir corrected automatically.

"See! Wrong again!"

Meanwhile, Grace and Khelgar found themselves fighting off about three times as many githyanki as they could rightfully handle alone. That's not to say that Grobnar wasn't boosting them with a delightful (off-key, Grace sourly noted) song of champions, or that the magic-users weren't flinging spells, but there was still a damnable lot of githyanki.

Grace felt an arrow go through her plate mail and into her back, shot off by a gith.

"No, it's definitely 'smote,'" Casavir replied, "I think I would know that better than you."

"Okay, okay, fine, whatever. But if you honestly, _honestly_ think that bacon is better than sausage, then I don't know if I can redeem you."

"Are you purposefully choosing these words just to make me feel guilty, or were you a paladin in a past life?"

"I'd like to think in a past life I was _a person who appreciated the delicious taste of sausage and waffles, __**heathen!**_**"**

"Would you two shut up and get in here?" Qara shouted back at them, standing in the doorway.

Grace ripped the arrow out of her back, biting off a cry. She drew a spare longsword out from the sheath at her left hip, as she was unable to use her left arm, but as she turned around, a much larger dagger-like object plunged into her back and she was forced down, _hard_, her head cracking against the floor of the chamber.

"Grace!" Elanee cried, rushing forward.

Neeshka backstabbed the gith that had gotten Grace from behind as Khelgar finished off the last of the gith, his own body covered in gaping wounds.

Qara, not wasting a moment, began using her remaining magics to destroy Zeeaire's defensive portal.

Elanee's hands lit up with healing magic, but she had to abort her attempts when Zeeaire threw off a spell of her own at her. Elanee dodged in time. Grace, for obvious reasons, did not.

"I know that bacon is terrible for me," Casavir admitted, "due to grease, but _sausage?_ What part of the pig is that _from?_ And pancakes are so light, fluffy and delicious!"

"Sausage is obviously from the _good_ part of the pig," Bishop retorted.

Elanee came to the door. "Casavir, Grace's down, I'm out of healing-"

The two men sprinted past her, going so far as to get caught in the door. They pushed their way through the door, both running to Grace's side.

Khelgar inflicted the killing blow on Zeeaire.

Casavir brought Grace's head into his lap, softly chanting to activate his own healing magic.

"You're all idiots," Shandra observed from her cage.

* * *

_The Sunken Flagon_ was more crowded than it had been during the entire duration of Grace and company's traipsing around Neverwinter. That suited Bishop just fine, allowing him to still get drunk while not standing out in a crowd. 

He watched as Khelgar planted a ham-sized fist into the midsection of a particularly rowdy patron. Duncan, smiling, walked over to talk to the dwarf – Bishop was able to pick up the word 'bouncer' from Duncan's lips.

He took another drink of ale.

He wouldn't admit it, but he was worried about Grace, the only damn woman to, despite all of the threats, _like_ him. Genuinely. It made him a little wary of her mental capacities, but she seemed normal enough.

Even Bishop had to admit that, if Grace had any idea how Casavir was acting, he wouldn't fault her for liking him.

During the six days, Casavir knelt at Grace's bedside and prayed to anyone he thought was listening, particularly Grace's divine patron, Lathander. During the nights, he sat on the edge of her bed, war-hammer at the ready, and prepared himself for the attack he was certain was coming.

"If only he did this sort of thing when Grace is _conscious_," Neeshka admitted, sitting next to Bishop, "Then all of that sexual tension would so be gone."

Bishop snorted. "Yeah right. Maybe she'd go for him, but he would still act like he's gay."

"Nah, not gay. Sexually repressed. He's so sexually repressed I'm surprised he hasn't exploded."

"Or is so sexually repressed he hasn't just gone around and turned into a prostitute," Bishop added.

Neeshka sighed at that. "Oh, paladins. They're crazy."

Bishop let out a half-hearted snort.

"So, if I get my facts correct," the tiefling continued, "then the reason that you two weren't involved in the fight that Grace nearly got offed during was because you were arguing?"

"Yeah."

"About?"

"Something very, very important."

Neeshka gasped, looking over Bishop's shoulder at something. Bishop turned around.

Her dark red hair messed and falling to her mid-back, Grace shuffled through the room dressed in a pair of pajamas, her eyes still closed. "So I would like some food," she said to her uncle.

"Good morning Grace! Welcome back to life!" Duncan gushed. "Sure, sure, sure, I don't have anything for you for breakfast, on account of the fact that it's night time, but – hey you, stop making eyes at my niece – here, some nice cockatrice for you!"

"Thanks." She sat down at the bar with her plate of food.

"Hey you!" Neeshka said cheerfully, walking over and sitting next to the paladin, "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got shot, stabbed, burned and my skull cracked, but otherwise okay. Oh, and I'm hungry." She started eating. "Get the gang together, please. We need to talk."

Bishop felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

* * *

The 'gang', as Grace called them, huddled together in Grace's recovery room. It was very clear that Casavir hadn't shaved in six days. 

"Hi Shandra, how are you?" Grace asked.

"Better than you," the farmer replied, "But Khelgar's filled me in on why I'm here and everything, so… I guess I'm just hanging around."

"Okay, that's fine. Welcome to the team, I guess."

"For the record," Bishop said, calling attention to him, "I'm placing a pot on how long the farmer girl lives. Closest guess without going over gets the money."

Any retort Shandra could come up with was cut off with a loud knock on the door.

Without waiting for an answer, Sir Nevalle came into the already-packed room. "Which one of you is Grace?" he asked, his voice commanding attention.

"Who the hells are you to be just bargin' in here like ye own the place?" Khelgar demanded, axe at the ready.

"_I_ am one of the Neverwinter Nine," Nevalle retorted.

It seemed as if Bishop had something he wanted to add, but Grace chimed in, "I am Grace. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I come from Lord Nasher himself," Nevalle replied, still warily glancing around the room as if he wanted to make sure no one touched him, "Lady Grace, you have been accused of the murder of an entire town."

"You can't _murder_ a _town_," Neeshka pointed out. "You can raze a town, slaughter the innocents _of_ a town, but you can't _murder_ a _town._"

"Yet," Qara said gleefully.

"… right," Nevalle said cautiously, looking at Qara as he did so, "From the sounds of it, you have some town-_razers_," he looked for Neeshka's nod of approval, "but you, yourself, are a paladin, are you not? I highly doubt you are guilty."

She nodded. "So who's accusing me of this?"

"You're taking this awfully well," Shandra whispered to her.

She shrugged. "My vision's blurry and I'm hallucinating still. Right now I see six Nevalles and only one of them is wearing a shirt. I'm not taking anything seriously."

Shandra smiled to herself as she decided to see what Grace was seeing.

"_Luskan_," he sneered.

"_Luskan_," Bishop sneered along with him.

"_Luskan_," came the sneer of a nasally voice in the hallway.

"There are things I scrape off the bottom of my boots I respect more than _Luskan-_"

"_Luskan_."

"_Luskan_."

"-but in this instance, they're right; Ember _is_ gone, and you were there last."

"Have you noticed that the more you say Luskan the less real it sounds?" Grobnar chimed in cheerfully.

"No, no, say it with more hatred in your voice. _Luskan,_" Bishop instructed him.

"Oh, okay! Grrrr, _Luskan!_"

"Standing behind me in the hallway is a mage named Sand who will help you try to collect evidence to exonerate yourself; after, of course, you speak to Sir Grayson and are knighted. As a squire, you will be exempt from low justice and thus Lord Nasher will be your judge and jury."

"I think I'll be fine," Grace replied, a little dryly.

"Nevalle, if you wouldn't mind moving your exceptionally well-toned derriere out of the way so that I might introduce myself?" the voice in the hallway chided.

Nevalle sighed and moved into the room, coming to stand next to Shandra.

"Well, it looks like we have a packed crowd in here," Sand said appraisingly, poking his head into the room.

"Hi Nevalle," Shandra said sweetly. Nevalle blushed.

"As Nasher-Lite has pointed out, you're going to need to speak with Sir Grayson and get knighted. Afterwards, we will proceed to Port Llast and gather evidence. I will, of course, come with you," Sand said airily, "and we will proceed from there."

Grace nodded in understanding. "All right, everyone but Casavir and Bishop, get your things together and we'll head out."

Casavir's eyes were huge.

"Bishop, Casavir. I understand that two of you hate each other, but until you can work through your mutual hatred, you're not going anywhere with me."

"But I want to adventure," Bishop protested, "I joined up with you because of all the fighting we get to do."

"And I almost got killed because you two were bickering,"

"About something very important," the two of them interrupted her in perfect unison.

"I'll bet."

"Grace, I'll work toward finding some harmony between them," Elanee volunteered.

"Thank you, Elanee."

Later that very same day, the aforementioned left the _Flagon_.


	2. Chapter 2

I.

Casavir and Bishop's initial plan to combat their forced union was to divide the _Flagon_ in half, each man sticking to his own side. When Elanee tried to cajole one into at least getting within talking range of the other, he would vehemently declare that the other side's floor was made of lava.

Never one to give up on a good cause, Elanee then convinced Duncan to kick both of them out of the _Flagon_. Bishop, in true Bishop fashion, snorted in derision at being told to do anything, but ever-dutiful Casavir acknowledged that this pub was Duncan's by right and, as such, flung Bishop over his shoulder and carried him out of the _Flagon _kicking and swearing.

Confronting them outside, Elanee said, all very cheerfully, "Now what do you plan on doing, boys? Staying together, I hope. I'm not positive there _is_ a way to bind you two magically, but I will try if necessary."

"Well, I guess we can stay together," Bishop sweetly lied.

Casavir didn't respond, his face stoic.

Still smiling, Elanee said, "Sir Casavir, Paladin of Tyr-"

"Oh, hells!" Bishop exclaimed, backing.

"I hereby want your _word_, Tyr smite you should you renounce it, that you will not part from Bishop."

Casavir's eye twitched. "Do I have to?" he finally whispered, as if he hoped Tyr couldn't hear him.

Elanee didn't respond, smiling at him expectantly.

Casavir gave a great sigh. "Aye, my lady, it shall be as you command. Bishop and I shall not part, Tyr smite me should it come to pass."

Bishop turned to walk away. "Just because _you-"_

Any further retort was cut off when Casavir caught him around the neck with his elbow, pushing him to the ground and kneeling on top of him.

"Damn you and your honor!" Bishop choked out.

Casavir calmly held the snarling ranger down. He punched him once for good measure.

"Well, you boys have fun on your days off," Elanee chuckled good-naturedly, "And perhaps you'll even learn a thing or two about each other!"

"There's nothing about you I want to learn," Casavir calmly informed Bishop, still holding him down.

"Can't breathe!" the ranger gasped back.

"I'm going to visit the Neverwinter Woods. This city is so stuffy!" She calmly walked off, whistling.

"No, seriously, I can't breathe!"

Casavir got off Bishop and the other man jumped up, glaring as he brushed dirt off his leather armor. "I hate you," Bishop sneered.

"And I you. But I have no intention of allowing my hatred of you to prevent my usefulness as a member of the team."

"Why can't we just lie?" Bishop asked, sounding exasperated.

Casavir snorted. "Grace is a paladin, don't forget. We can detect lies."

"I hate paladins."

The two stood in silence.

Bishop kicked the dirt at his feet. Casavir looked around uncomfortably.

"You know," the ranger finally said, "Grace left a nice chunk of change with us…"

"How much?" Casavir asked.

"Hundred-thousand," here Bishop grinned sardonically, "almost like she's paying us to 'hang out.'"

Casavir nodded to himself. "Let's go spend it all."

Bishop's look changed to one of surprise. "Seriously?"

Casavir started walking to the Blacklake District. "Certainly. I could use a new shield. I was thinking something worth, oh, a hundred-thousand gold."

"I'm impressed," wary of getting clocked again, Bishop started walking beside him.

"Why?"

"Didn't think you were keen on revenge, that's all."

"For this," the paladin said tersely, "I think revenge is necessary."

* * *

The two men perused the merchant's selection. It seemed that the merchant in question had something of a crush on one of them, or perhaps both, because after the purchase of Casavir's top-end shield there was still money to spend.

His desire for revenge sated, Casavir calmly stood back and watched Bishop shop.

_This isn't so bad_, he thought, arms crossed, _It seems as if Bishop only becomes obstinate when Lady Grace is here. Perhaps we can get along? Or at least I may not have to smite him._

Bishop put on a new pair of boots. He jumped up and down, trying them out, and Casavir noted that he somehow jumped up and came down faster than usual. He nodded in acceptance and paid the merchant. Then, with a wary glance at Casavir, Bishop took off at a sprint.

"Boots of Speed! That brilliant bastard!" Casavir exclaimed, giving chase.

* * *

"So I don't get it, lass," Khelgar confessed as the others set up camp, "What in the hells are ya tryin' to accomplish? Getting those two to get along is like gettin' Qara to stop tryin' to set Sand on fire!"

"Accidentally!" she protested, "Really! I definitely wasn't aiming at him!"

Sand was practically crying as he raised a knife to his hair, forced to cut off an entire inch to remove the burned hairs and even everything out.

Grace smiled innocently. "I just want them to get along, Khelgar, is that so wrong?"

"What's with the grin?" Neeshka asked, poking her in the arm.

Grace gave a happy sigh and her smile widened.

Sand stopped the cutting and looked at her suspiciously. "Do I dare ask what you have in mind?"

Grace looked up. The others did as well.

_"I want you," Bishop growled._

_Poor, naïve Casavir was confused. "But I thought you wanted Grace, like I do."_

_"Of course I do! Grace is beautiful, talented, witty and so sexual! My greatest dream is a threesome with you and her! You are so damn sexy it's hard to keep my hands off you, you sexy, sexy man! Your holiness is a turn-on! I want to defile you!"_

_Bishop grabbed Casavir's arm and dragged the larger man to him, kissing him with tongue. Casavir blurted, ending the kiss, "I want you too, Bishop! You're so rugged and hot! I want to redeem you, but it'll be a dirty kind of redeeming! Let's have sex right here, right now!"_

_The two men kissed each other passionately, groping each other._

_"Boys!" Grace cried out, walking in on them. They were kneeling on the bed with its silk sheets, both looking embarrassed._

_Grace started stripping. "How dare you start without me?" she purred._

Khelgar was gagging.

"It makes sense," Grace said dreamily, "Bishop never leaves Casavir alone, and Casavir never ignores him. Mmmmm."

"You," Neeshka said appraisingly, "you sure you're a paladin? I think something like that would make you Fall."

"If Lathander were a woman, he'd appreciate it."

"Are you and I long-lost sisters or something?" Shandra asked with a grin that mirrored Grace's.

"What are they doing?" Grobnar asked, still looking up.

Sand reached over and covered his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

Sword in one hand and shield on the other, Casavir was proving to be a very fast sprinter despite the lack of magical enchantment. Bishop, on the other hand, was proving himself to run with a flailing girl-like motion.

With a whispered mantra of "he's gonna kill me!" Bishop ran through the Blacklake District, looking for some place to hide but not finding any. He ran out of the district, sprinting into the Merchant Quarter.

"He's gonna kill me! He's gonna kill me!"

"Deekin?"

At the response to his mantra, Bishop skidded to a halt, looked around, and looked down. "What the hells is a kobold doing in Neverwinter?" he asked, curious despite the fact that he was running for his life.

The kobold looked up at him and gave him the most condescending sigh he had ever heard in his life. "Owns a shop," he replied, "Deekin sits here all day, with Deekin's things, and Deekin offers walkers things, _why does people not get that DEEKIN OWNS A SHOP!_"

"Hey-" Bishop was going to tell him to stop yelling at him.

_"DEEKIN SICK TO DEATH OF STUPID PEOPLE! WHY IS KOBOLD IN CITY? WHY IS KOBOLD IN CITY! DEEKIN TELLS YOU WHY KOBOLD IN CITY! KOBOLD TRYING TO MAKE LIVING!_" At this point, Deekin was jumping up and down, actually brandishing a sword that he was trying to sell.

The kobold stopped jumping. "Deekin okay now. Sometimes anger gets the best of Deekin; makes him see the darkness in his soul. Is not pretty. Not like you; you is very pretty. Is you wearing eyeliner?"

"Er, what?"

"Deekin has plenty of eyeliner. No more shampoo, though; solds all shampoo to Neverwinter Nine guy. Beautiful hair, just beautiful!" Deekin held up a small box full of cosmetics.

Bishop rubbed his eyes reflexively. "I'm not-" He never got to finish that sentence, because he heard the telltale sounds of a fully-plated man running, the sound growing louder. Bishop instantly took off.

"Deekin?" Deekin questioned.

Casavir stopped at the question. "Deekin what?" he asked. He had met Deekin before; in fact, the sword Deekin was holding had once been Casavir's.

"Deekin… Deekin. Deekin is Deekin is Deekin. Sometimes not."

Casavir squinted, as if hoping seeing him clearer would clarify his sentence. "What? I must confess you lost me. Oh! Speaking of, did a ranger run by here? I've lost him."

"Guy with Lovely Eyes?"

The two stared at each other. "Could you be more descriptive?" Casavir asked at length.

"Guy. With eyes. That are lovely. Like chocolate. No, chocolate easy descriptor. Deekin is poet. Guy with Eyes the Color of Hot Chocolate on a Cold Winter's Day. Ironic, given this Neverwinter. Guy with Nice Eyeliner?"

"We might be talking about the same person," Casavir admitted, "I _have_ noticed that Bishop has very thick eyelashes, if nothing else. But before I pursue, I would like to make sure I have the right person."

"Deekin," he responded understandingly.

"No, no, no. 'Deekin' is not a legitimate response. 'Deekin' is not a response to anything other than 'what is your name?'"

"Deekin."

"… were you responding to the 'what is your name' question, or was that a statement of understanding?"

The kobold looked around warily, as if looking for an escape route. "Deekin," he finally responded.

"Was this person you saw a brunette? Wearing green?"

"Guy with Nice Eyeliner?"

"The person you saw," Casavir clarified.

"Deekin sees lots of people over course of day. Deekin owns shop."

"… … … yes."

An awkward sentence settled between the two.

"I'm going to go now," Casavir said slowly, edging away.

"Yes, Deekin think that be for the best."

Casavir started running again.

Deekin shook his head. "Humans crazy. Wonder who sells Guy with Nice Eyeliner's eyeliner. Could use some."

* * *

Meanwhile, Bishop had made good headway, having made it to the docks. Almost instinctively, he ducked into the nearest tavern he could find.

"Bishop?" He winced as he heard Duncan's ingratiating voice. "Aren't you and the paladin supposed to be bonding? What are you doing back here without him?"

"Shut up and hide me!" Bishop snapped, running across the Flagon and hiding beneath the bar.

Duncan sat on the bar and looked at him. "And what in our relationship makes you think that if Casavir comes in here I'm not going to tell him where you are?"

"Because you owe me!" he guessed.

"No, you owed me, and then you paid me back, and so now we're even. Of course, unless you want me to hide you." Duncan hadn't smiled so broadly since the day he discovered he had a niece. "That'll cost you, Bishop."

A nervous sweat broke out over the ranger's face. _Damn it! Again with the debts! That's it – for this, I'm betraying Grace! Suck it, Duncan! Huh. That logic doesn't make sense. Why would I_ – as Bishop continued to ponder this, he didn't hear the door open or see Duncan gesturing to himself and pointing down – _betray Grace, who I clearly like, because I hate her uncle? Huh. I'm going to have to think about – gak!_

Casavir lifted Bishop up by the front of his tunic, holding him eyelevel despite the nearly half a foot height difference. The paladin's face was a mask of apathy. "Nice try," he said calmly.

"And do I get not beaten because I was ingenious about it?" Bishop asked sweetly, trying to smile.

"No."

Bishop put on a surprised look. "Oh no! There's six baalors attacking a little girl carrying a puppy and a lollipop while on her way to school for the first time for her training as a future paladin!"

"Where?" Casavir turned around. Upon seeing nothing, his head snapped back, but before he could respond Bishop head-butted him and sprinted out.

Casavir nursed his injured nose. "That son of a bitch is going to die," he growled.

Duncan looked taken aback. "Are you allowed to swear?"

"My code of honor dictates my actions. It does not dictate my speech. And that son of a bitch is going to die." Magic gathered around Casavir's hand, and he used it to heal his nose. He moved to leave.

"And Grace would say what about that, exactly?" Duncan seemed to be the only one enjoying this situation.

Casavir froze. "And you have a point," he muttered.

"Besides," Duncan continued, placing a hand on the taller man's shoulder, "you know Bishop well enough; if you catch him, hog-tie him until Grace comes back. That'll be more torturous to him than actually killing him."

"So he suffers, but Grace won't smite me for smiting him." Casavir nodded and readjusted his hold on his sword in a gesture of determination. "Do you have any duct tape?"


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes:

Sorry this took so long. You know how it is – "Thanksgiving's coming up, so let's shove every possible test/project in before the break!" Turkey wipes the mind, you know. Case in point, I spent my entire Thanksgiving break playing Mario. Good game, good game.

Anyhow, there are things I forgot to say:

1. As with the last story, I'm not really taking this too seriously. Not that I'm saying you can't give me critiques, of course, I'm a big girl (submitting an urban fantasy piece in a college fiction workshop will thicken anyone's skin, let-me-tell-you), but I'm just saying don't nit-pick too much, just enjoy.  Happy story!

2. I don't own anyone other than Grace. I do own the game in the sense that right now I have a character just getting to Neverwinter and thanks to the MOTB patch Neverwinter and Mulsantir crash or bug the game beyond completion, so I'm not bothering to try playing again until they release a new patch. My intention was to play the game again in order to better get a handle on characterization, but…

3. If anyone has a link to some site or outlines or details about the Casavir dropped subplot, I would appreciate it. I know I've seen it somewhere before, but I couldn't find it again. And, to be honest, I don't understand what's going on half the time. BUT… I think you know where I'm going with it. So if you have it, I would appreciate it. Danke!

IV.

Bishop was running so fast he really wasn't sure where he was going. Not to mention at this point he was becoming exhausted from all the fleeing. That too.

"Look out, mister!"

The kind of nice guy who wouldn't knock over a group of children (not admittedly, of course), Bishop veered to the right and tripped over a tombstone, hitting it with such force that he broke the thing in half and subsequently broke his left leg.

He let out a string of obscenities.

Three girls, two dressed in solid black and one dressed in normal clothes, looked down at him. "Are you okay?" the prettier of the black-clad ones asked.

His response was barely coherent, other than the swearing and the leg grabbing.

"Aren't you a priest?" the little one asked the other black-clad one.

"Shut up, Kyli!" she snapped.

"There you are!" Casavir exclaimed, also out of breath. In fact, he bent over and caught his breath.

"Oo, a paladin!" the little girl squealed.

Casavir ignored the three girls, pulling out a roll of duct tape and taping an unresisting, still-writhing Bishop's hands behind his back. Wordless in his task, his healed Bishop's leg and duct-taped his feet together.

"What are you doing?" the second black-clad girl asked, looking perturbed.

"Nothing. Does something seem to be the matter? Why are you young girls standing in a graveyard?" he asked, hoisting Bishop to his feet and beginning to bind Bishop's arms to his torso.

"Oh come on," he whined.

Casavir covered his mouth in a piece.

The little one looked thrilled; it was apparent she'd had an epiphany. "Raven wants Lisbet to go into the crypts! They stole Daddy's key and they're doing bad stuff! Stop them!"

"Lisbet, what did I say I was going to do to your sister if she didn't shut up?" the girl called Raven said to her dark-clad companion.

Lisbet rolled her eyes. "Kyli, go _home_. And don't get the paladin involved in something that's not _his business._"

"Paladins think everything is their business," Bishop said wisely. With his mouth being shut as it was, it came out as "mphmphmphs mphk mphmphmph mph mph mpnmph."

"Don't make me cover your ears too."

"Mph mphu."

* * *

"So the reasoning behind your forcing Bishop and Casavir together is the hope that you will get a threesome out of the deal," Sand translated as the group traipsed through the woods.

"Yep," Grace answered honestly.

"So rather than have them here, where they can keep us alive and we can _not_ get lost, you would prefer that they stay in Neverwinter together in the hopes that they will spontaneously develop homosexuality."

"Bisexuality," she corrected. "I need to be involved in this too."

"I want a bath!" Qara whined.

"There's a river right over there!" Khelgar snapped back.

"But that's cold! I want real, hot water! This is all Grace's fault, making our druid and our ranger stay behind when they should be leading us places!"

"Qara," Shandra's fists were clenched, "you haven't stopped complaining since we left Neverwinter."

"And all of that time has needed my complaints! My feet hurt!" the sorceress snapped back.

"And it's not so much that I'm hoping they will randomly develop bisexuality," Grace continued with Sand, ignoring the bickering, "it's more along the lines of I hope that they recognize that their outward animosity is due to their inward lust for each other… … … and me. Although I acknowledge that I am not what's important here."

"You might be the worst paladin ever," Sand admitted, "But as a personal hater of paladins, I can respect that."

"Thank you."

* * *

Meanwhile, deciding that the goings-on of teenagers in crypts was, in fact, his business, and after forming a handle made of duct tape that he could use to drag Bishop along, Casavir valiantly vowed to Kyli that he would "rescue" Lisbet from the foul, evil, unorderly…

"_Emo kids_," Bishop drawled. For the promise of good behavior, Casavir had removed his gag. "I can't believe we're doing this! Two trained killers, playing babysitter for some emo kids!"

Casavir dragged him down a small set of stairs, taking him into the crypts. "I don't recall asking for your opinion on the matter."

"You ungagged me, and I'm here. That automatically qualifies as asking for my opinion. And this is pointless!"

There were at least fifteen kids in the first two rooms of the crypts, all wearing black clothing and makeup and giving the two "heroes" disdainful looks. "No one invited you," one said to them, crossing her arms over her chest in a gesture that was supposed to be threatening.

"We're here for a girl named Lisbet," Casavir responded, looking warily around for some sort of danger.

"Lisbet's not here," a boy responded haughtily, "so you two can leave now."

"Make us!" Bishop crooned.

"We will!" another boy retorted.

"What're going to do, cry on me? Write some poetry on me in permanent marker?"

"Bishop," Casavir growled warningly.

"I wish my grass was emo," he began, a grin on his face, "so that it would – uh, hey, uh, paladin…"

"I have a name."

"And they have a horde of undead!"

In a move that was done in slow-motion and with lots of shiny effects while a dramatic theme from _Lord of the Rings_ played in the background, Casavir withdrew his shining sword and cleanly sliced the duct tape, not hitting Bishop's skin but slicing the strings on his tunic open. Also in shiny slow motion, Bishop pulled out his longbow and started firing off arrows.

* * *

"My nose is bleeding!" Sandra reported.

* * *

"Well, that didn't work," one of the kids said as the two heroes dispatched the shade horde that had been summoned.

"You purposefully summoned those undead?" Casavir demanded.

Bishop awkwardly crossed his arms over his chest. "It's frickin' cold down here…"

The kids looked amongst each other. "We could kill them."

"That's what we tried to do the first time," one reminded the speaker.

"Can someone lend me a shirt or something?"

"You're going to make us kill you all, aren't you?" Casavir asked in a resigned tone.

One of the kids nodded. "Yeah, this might be a good place for a scene change, because that's just a lot easier, right?"

* * *

"It helps if you tilt your head back," Neeshka instructed Shandra.

"I heard that makes the blood run into your stomach, or somethin'," Khelgar chimed in.

"Who asked you?"

"Oh great!" Qara said with clearly sarcastic joy, "I just stepped in some poison ivy! Now I'm tired _and_ have a skin rash! Fantastic!"

* * *

The cultists slain, Bishop inquired, "So now what? You're not _really_ going to make us go in deeper, are you?"

"As opposed to doing what?" Casavir asked as he wiped cultist blood of his blade. "Going back to the _Flagon_? Risking being turned into squirrels by Elanee? If nothing else, saving the girl will prove a distraction and put our skills to use."

"Point. But could I get a new tunic before we go down?"

"Here's my pack - you can just have one of mine."

* * *

"Now _my_ nose is bleeding!" Grace exclaimed.

* * *

As the paladin and the newly-redressed ranger stalked through the crypts, Casavir inevitably brought to light one source of their contention.

He slammed his sword's point into the forehead of a summoned shade, finishing off this group of enemies. "I don't understand!" he blurted.

"That's because you're a moron," Bishop replied smarmily.

"Why," he continued, "is it that you're obviously attempting to court Miss Grace? She's a paladin! You should hate her on principle! And why is she humoring you?" He actually looked angry.

Bishop did not look daunted. "Depends on your definition of 'court,'" he explained. "I see us hooking up more like this-"

_"Oh Bishop, you're so sexy and hot!" Grace purred, stripping for Bishop, "I've wanted to do you since we first met and you called me a whore!"_

_"Yeah, baby, everybody wants a piece of Bishop," he replied, looking at her appraisingly._

_She straddled his hips. "I can't fight this feeling anymore! I've forgotten what I've started fighting for!"_

_"But won't sleeping with me make you Fall?" he asked, just to drive the point home._

_"Yes, but I don't care! You're too sexy to resist!"_

Bishop gave a self-satisfied smirk. "She's hot, and sleeping with her will make her lose her paladinhood. Add the fact that her threatening me all the time is so damn hot, and you got the basic gist of why I'm trying to hook up with her."

Casavir had a whole host of questions to ask, such as "and you're telling _me_, your romantic rival, this _why?_" or "what makes you think I'm going to let you make a fellow paladin Fall?", but what he finally settled for was, "REO Speedwagon?"

He snorted and muttered, "Shut up," before shuffling off further into the crypts.

Casavir frowned, but found he couldn't resist commenting, "You can take it on the run, if that's the way you want it."

"_ SHUT UP!"_ Bishop's voice came back.


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Notes;

Okay, I'm _really_ sorry about this one. I was juggling 7 classes and a 25-hour-a-week job last semester, and so by the end of it I was completely brain dead. As of the writing of this chapter, I'm still having trouble making sentences work, and for some reason I keep missing the space bar. So I apologize, again. I refuse to give up on this story because the subject matter amuses me so much, and there's so much potential for these two, so you can basically be guaranteed I'm not going to abandon this piece. But if you find sentences that don't make sense and lots of typos, you can blame that on my brain. It's slowly but surely starting to function again.

_**By the way, the section that is in italics, bold and separated by the, er, separators, is a spoiler for Mask of the Betrayer. A pretty big one, too. So be forewarned. Hence, this forewarning. You can skip it if you want to. That's why it's in bold and stuff. **_

Without further ado:

V.

Conversation between the paladin and the ranger failed as the two crept through the crypts, trying to remain silent in order to gain any sort of sneak advantage over their undead opponents.

"This is stupid," Bishop commented for the first time, after the two of them had finished off two acolytes and their summoned undead. "This is the kind of thing we should be doing as a _group_, not as two dudes in time-out!"

"It's too late now," Casavir responded, continuing the walk into the next room. "Although I agree – this would be much easier with our teammates here."

* * *

"Where in the hells are we now?" Neeshka demanded.

"This is most certainly not Port Llast," Sand admitted, looking perplexed.

"Er, welcome to West Harbor," Grace said, trying to sound inviting but failing due to her own confusion, "I, er, grew up here."

"_West Harbor?_" Shandra exclaimed in rage, "This is like… three days' travel south of Port Llast! How'd we get here?"

Grace shrugged. "You were there on the journey too… your guess is as good as mine."

"I can't believe I'm sayin' this," Khelgar admitted, "but I miss the elf and the bastard ranger. At least they had a sense of direction."

* * *

Elanee sat in a field, playing with a group of happy, cheerful squirrels.

* * *

Arval, the head priest of the King of Shadows charged with the conversion of the Neverwinterean youth, had finished performing a ritualistic sacrifice of a young woman. He was surrounded by at least six others, including Lisbet.

"Welcome," he said pleasantly to the two adventurers there to stop him, "I hope you're here to embrace the Dark Lord, as opposed to trying to stop us here. He would prefer your working for him as logical, thinking organisms as opposed to shades… not that it matters, of course, as He will accept you either way."

"Give us the chick and we'll leave," Bishop said, his hands readying an arrow.

"Hmmm… no."

"We shall not leave!" Casavir snapped, more to Bishop than to anyone else. He continued, now clearly addressing the shadow cult, "Your foul conversion of young easily-influenced children to evil cannot be abided!"

"They're just like Pokemon!" Bishop observed.

"Prepare to die, foul fiend!"

Arval didn't stop smiling. "Do you realize you're outnumbered about three to one?"

"I noticed that," Bishop chimed in.

"Shut up!" Casavir snarled at him.

"Geez, just 'cause I want to do your pseudo-girlfriend doesn't mean you need to try and rip my head off."

"I… I… that has nothing to do with it!"

"Oooo, drama!" Arval drawled.

"I don't hate you just because we both… er… appreciate the same woman!" Casavir continued, ignoring the shadow cult, "There are many other reasons! It just doesn't help that your intentions are to… to… … er… how can I put this…"

"Get laid?" Bishop supplied.

"Yes! The fact that my intentions are honorable and yours are not, and yet she still…"

"Okay, okay, fine! What's _your_ great idea?" Bishop demanded.

Casavir rubbed his chin thoughtfully, looking at the ceiling. Bishop looked up too. So did Arval and the shadow cult.

_"My lady!" Casavir proclaimed as he returned to his home, "Today I slew many unnoble creatures! 'twas a most fulfilling day indeed!"_

_"Indeed, Sir Casavir my most noble love!" Grace replied, "I, too, had a most noble and fulfilling day! I opened up an orphanage for puppies, which are so very cute and orderly! They shall grow up to be great and noble companions to other noble paladins such as ourselves!"_

_"Indeed! Together we shall forge a path of goodness and righteousness throughout the Realms!"_

_"Indeed!"_

_The paladin duo's six (so far) children came into the noble household. "Father! Today we spent many an hour training in the noble sword arts of the most noble Tyr, indeed!" the eldest, Casavir II, proclaimed._

_"Indeed! And us womenfolk furthered our talents in the noble art of poetry!" the second eldest, Casavira, informed her parents._

_"We sipped tea, discussed the most noble of poetry and we learned the orderly art of crocheting!" the other girl, Casavirette, added._

_"I furthered my training in the noble art of diplomacy, so that I may resolve conflicts without needless bloodshed, indeed!" the next boy, Casavar, chimed in._

_"And I well-rounded my future career as a most noble paladin by learning the art of the bow and arrow – for although 'tis most dishonorable to stay away from frays, 'tis also most righteous to learn all I can about the noble art of combat!" Casaver continued._

_"And I am furthering my pursuit into the godly magics, as I spent my day in the most noble Temple of Tyr!" little Casavor finished. _

_"Indeed!" Casavir and Grace said together, "As a family, our nobleness and righteousness knows no bounds! Together, we shall protect the innocent and slay evil! Indeed!"_

Bishop looked at Casavir as if he had grown two heads. "Huh?" he finally asked.

"I'm going to have to agree with your friend," Arval admitted.

"He's not my friend!" both men declared in unison.

"Indeed!" Bishop chimed in smarmily.

Silence reigned in the chamber.

"So it'd be awkward now to try and kill them," Bishop pointed out.

"I noticed that," Casavir admitted.

"So maybe we should just leave."

"It wouldn't be awkward now to try and kill you."

"… okeedokey."

Arval gave a great sigh. "All right, all right, prepare yourselves."

The two men did so.

* * *

"Everyone, this is my father, Daeghun," Grace said, her voice betraying the fact that she still wasn't sure how she was here.

The stern elf glared at her.

She gave a nervous laugh and started walking, her group following her. "And this is Tarmas, the resident mage-"

"Mmm, a mage in a backward town smelling of peat moss. What a great honor!" Sand drawled.

"Oh look, it's a gray elf who thinks he knows the arcane," Tarmas snapped right back, "Let me guess, a successful casting of acid splash got you thinking you're an archmage, right?"

Sand gasped in indignation. "I've been casting spells such as Horrid Wilting since before your grandparents were born, you miserable excuse-"

"You can't cast that spell," Qara sang in a sing-song voice.

"Shut up, you infantile ignoramus!" Sand snapped at her.

"What are you going to do, cast Cat's Grace at me?"

Tarmas laughed gleefully.

* * *

Bishop had actually died during the battle, but since Casavir had survived – albeit barely – Bishop came back to life and the two rested for three seconds, perfectly healthy.

"This is the best system ever!" Bishop gushed.

"You will respect the fourth wall!" Lisbet commanded of him.

"Aw, look, another demanding, angry emo kid who thinks she can tell me what to do!" he crooned, "If the emo kid wants to try to make me respect the fourth wall, she's welcome to try."

"Give me a minute and I'll resurrect these guys as undead," she responded without feeling.

Casavir glared at Bishop.

"Okay," he admitted as the chamber filled with shadows and the dead priests began stirring, "so maybe this particular group of emo kids wasn't the best group to take out my hatred of emo out on."

"_You're_ emo," Casavir reminded him.

"As opposed to you?" Bishop shot back.

* * *

"Funny story," Shandra said as the team left West Harbor in a direction they hoped was north, "Even though I've been through your town, talked to your friends and met your father, I'm _still_ going to be surprised when we come back here and I learn you're from West Harbor. As far as I'm concerned, you're from a big city like Waterdeep."

"It's okay," Grace responded, "Because _I_ will show no emotion whatsoever at the deaths of my friends and family when the time comes."

"The fourth wall! It's bleeding and dying!" Grobnar cried.

* * *

"Normally I don't condone your tactics, feelings or ideas," Casavir said to Bishop after the deaths of the undead and another resting period, "But you're free to knock her unconscious and gag her so that we can drag her back out of here without a fight."

"Sweet!"

"I'll cooperate!" Lisbet exclaimed, holding up her hands in a placating gesture. Bishop looked dejected. "And besides, the whole place is swarming with greater shadows! I'm a priest, which means I'm good at fighting the undead!"

"Oh, you're a priest we can't control? That means you're going to walk up and punch the shadows, maybe cast Bless, right?" Bishop asked.

"Right," Lisbet replied cheerfully.

"I think I liked it more when people were a little less honest about their intentions," Casavir admitted. He continued, "But before we go, we ought to find some records or something similar that we can give to Lord Nasher as proof of what transpired down here."

"Let's just go!" Bishop whined, "Who cares about Nasher?"

"No one cares about Nasher, but if we can do something that will protect the citizens of Neverwinter…"

"Who cares about the people of Neverwinter?"

"People _in_ Neverwinter," Casavir responded, sounding like he didn't believe what he was saying or hearing, "You… live here, on occasion, you mean you don't care if the place gets eaten by shadows?"

"Are you serious? Have you not been paying attention to me since I joined this stupid group? _I care about __**me. **_The rest of you can bite the big one, but _I_ will get out of this whole thing alive."

* * *

_**Later that same year… (and apparently in an alternate timeline from these fanfics)**_

_**Grace was having one of the craziest dreams she'd ever had, without a doubt. Here she was, standing in front of the Wall of the Faithless with a guy who had blue skin, talking to:**_

_**"Bishop? Is that you?" she asked, unbelieving.**_

_**"Seems to be that way," the half-fused-in-the-Wall ranger responded.**_

_**"What's wrong with your voice?"**_

_**"Er… I had a cold the entire time we knew each other, and now I don't."**_

_**"I… … okay... kind of sucks that your nose clears up just in time to be shoved into an evil wall that's going to eat you… But anyhow... You left the fight! You… how'd you die?"**_

_**"Rocks Fall, Everyone Dies!" he responded.**_

_**"That doesn't make sense! I mean, first you left, then we fought Garius, then we fought the King of Shadows one, two, three times! Maybe four, I've forgotten. But you're telling me that you, a tracker, a trained scout, a guy whose job it is to find paths to and from places, you who had to have walked in there somehow, didn't get out in time?"**_

_**"Er…"**_

_**"And why are you even here?" Grace demanded, sounding angry, "I mean, I have it on good authority that rangers and druids can't cast spells without a patron deity-"**_

_**"Not all gods accept druids and rangers as followers, but there are some among every race," Gann chimed in smarmily.**_

_**She turned to fix him with a glare. "Did I give you permission to speak, heathen?"**_

_**"No," he said glumly, looking down.**_

_**"And I've seen you cast spells!" she continued, readdressing Bishop, "I mean, how many times did I say, 'Damn it, Bishop, stop casting Aid and start shooting things!' I just figured you had a patron deity and it was probably Mielikki and you were too embarrassed to admit it…"**_

_**"Um… yeah, about that…"**_

_**She sighed. "Fine, give me a second, I'll figure out how to get you out of there…"**_

_**"No!" he blurted, "No, you can't get me out of here!"**_

_**"Say what?"**_

_**"I don't want… to give you… the joy of being… the hero... … … yeah."**_

_**Grace wiped some imaginary dirt from her ears. "Now I know that my hearings not as good as, say, a ranger's would be, but did I just hear you say you'd rather be sucked into oblivion than let me save you?"**_

_**"Seems to be that way."**_

_**She looked at Gann, as if trying to get him to validate this. The hagspawn shrugged.**_

_**"But… but… but you betrayed me, the woman you allegedly loved, in order to be on what you thought was the winning side! Your name might as well be Bishop 'Self Preservation'… er… Rangerson."**_

_**"'Rangerson'?"**_

_**"Stow it!" she snapped back. Bishop noticed that this post-King-of-Shadows Grace was a lot more cynical and angry than she had ever been beforehand.**_

_**"You don't know my last name?"**_

_**"What did I just say? I told you to stow it!"**_

_**"Some people would argue that all I really want to do is die and be forgotten," Bishop pointed out.**_

_**"I can see where they're coming from, but that's giving you a lot of credit. I think you're just a douche bag, personally. An adorable, cuddleable pitiable douche bag, but a douche bag nonetheless. "**_

_**"And who's with you?" he asked, trying to change the subject, "Should I be telling the paladin about our fickle swamp wench?"**_

_**She chose that moment to fix Gann with a glare. "There have been five men who have expressed an interest in me in my entire life," she said, not stopping glaring, "Bevil, you, Ward Mossfeld, Casavir and this guy."**_

_**"No, you're interested in me," Gann interrupted her.**_

_**"What did I tell you about your right to speak?"**_

_**"Should I speak, you will remove my blaspheming tongue and make it switch places with my abnormally small testicles," he grumbled back.**_

_**"Bevil was kind of a dork, but we were kids, so it was okay. Ward was an idiot. You were kind of an asshole, but it was forgivable. You're like a puppy that got kicked one too many times."**_

_**"Thanks," Bishop said sarcastically.**_

_**"Now, the guy I chose was a human male Tyrran paladin with dark hair and a stern countenance. Obviously, I have established with that a taste in men. This guy is both emo and arrogant, a horrific combination, and he's blue for Lathander's sake! He's also a foul heathen who I will have to smite… and, ironically enough, he will end up here, where you are right now. Then the two of you can have long discussions on how I didn't date either of you."**_

_**"Well, at least you still threaten balls a lot," Bishop commented, "Some things never change. That's oddly comforting."**_

_**"Lucky me," Gann drawled. "And for the record, she made the assumption about the sizes of mine."**_

_**"And when you mentioned Casavir," Grace continued, ignoring them, "he's not in here, is he? Because I will be really, really angry if he's in here, because I know for a fact that he was a worshipper of Tyr. Tyr likes his paladins; he wouldn't cart Casavir off to the Wall just 'cause. Plus those demons I met earlier said they didn't see Casavir's corpse anywhere, so I'm optimistic he's not dead."**_

_**"Ah ha ha, how naïve," Gann chimed in. He sobered very quickly with a glare.**_

_**"Er… so I'm getting eaten by this wall…"

* * *

**_

"So yeah, we're not going to take this to Nasher, and we're not going to try and save the world from this King of Shadows, 'cause you're not a hot chick, so I don't have to listen to you!" Bishop obstinately finished.

Casavir just stared at him. "Bishop, what am I?"

"Is that a trick question?"

"No. What class am I?"

"You're a paladin," he said, deciding to play along.

"Right. And what do paladins do? Well, we do a lot of things, but fundamentally, what do we do?"

"Smite stuff."

"Smite what specific 'stuff'?"

"Evil stuff."

"Right. What is your alignment?"

"… … … evil."

Casavir just smiled, his point having been made, and he walked into another room to find some sort of physical evidence about Arval's quest.

Bishop sighed, looking at Lisbet. She looked a little lost. "All right, c'mon girl, let's go," he grumbled, turning to leave.

Casavir sprinted back out and tackled Bishop to the ground, punching him in the face once for good measure.

"Gah! I wasn't running away! I was just trying to leave!" Bishop choked out, "With the chick! Seriously!"

"Oh. Sorry, misunderstanding," Casavir admitted, standing up and brushing some imaginary dirt off his shiny plate mail. "I have the text we need, so let's get going."

"I can't see out of my eye," Bishop whined.

"I could heal you, but I need to go punch some undead," Lisbet said cheerfully.

* * *

"You know, I really don't like this whole 'you're in control' thing," Bishop complained after they had gotten Lisbet out and almost gotten some pocket change from poor Kyli, who had to listen to the two men argue over receiving the reward until Casavir punched Bishop in the face and refused it with finality, "I mean, this is the point in time where I would give a speech about how I don't listen to anyone and how I hate being chained down, maybe insert a 'how you doin' in there if I'm talking to Grace, and she usually tells me that I can leave at any time, but I won't because she's hot and I will use Duncan as an excuse. Instead you just keep hitting me and not giving me a choice!"

"What, am I supposed to feel pity for you or something?" Casavir asked. "This relationship is working out rather well for me."

"But you're abusing me! Isn't there anything in the paladin code that prevents you from beating the shit out of people?"

"I'm technically supposed to kill you," Casavir deadpanned.

Bishop blanched. "You know, Grace likes having people hit me in the kidneys."

A nobleman who had been taking a walk stopped and looked at the two men. "Casavir? What are you doing back in the city? You're not supposed to have come back, you idiot!"

It was Casavir's turn to blanche.

Bishop smiled sinisterly. "Oh really?"


	6. Chapter 6

Author's Excuses:

1. New medication.

2. Loss of job. Sort of. Because it has to be complicated.

3. Not one but _two_ dear relatives hospitalized.

4. Two other NWN2 fanfic ideas.

Needless to say things have been rather hectic here, but now I have a new computer that will allow me to play the game again (woo!), so if nothing else I'm finally getting back into the NWN2 mode!

And this chapter is a lot shorter than I thought it was, but at least I have most of the next chapter planned? Please don't come kill me…

Okay, as sad as this is, I can't refind where I got the Casavir side-story info from, even though I found it via Google… You'd think I'd be able to find it again easily, right? Wrong. So credit goes to Vypress, who apparently wrote it. Thank you :) Of course I'm taking liberties with it, as I do with most things…

(and the latin chanting is from One Winged Angel ala Final Fantasy VII, just in case you were thinking of suing me for using it. I get no money from anything).

VI.

Bishop looked like a kid for whom Christmas had come early. "So why exactly were you not supposed to come back to Neverwinter?" he asked in a saccharine-sweet voice.

Casavir looked like a kid who had seen a ghost. "Because… I… well, I went to Old Owl Well because I wanted to do good."

"… … that wasn't an answer to the question."

"The people of Old Owl Well needed help," Casavir responded in a robotic voice, "And I knew I could do good on their behalf. In Old Owl Well."

"But why'd you leave in the first place?" Bishop asked, looking less gleeful and more confused.

"Because Old Owl Well is the best place ever. Old Owl Well."

"… … … … … … but-"

"Owl Old – er, Old Owl Well!"

Bishop regarded the stoic paladin as one regards someone with a severe mental disability who happens to be wielding a longsword. "Okay, let's try this another way. How about -"

Abruptly Bishop ran off, a man on a mission. Confused, Casavir followed him to an alleyway between two nobles' houses, where a group of Neverwintean youths had gathered around something. Before Casavir could object, Bishop had finished sniper-ing off half of them, and after Casavir did protest Bishop finished off the other half.

"Did you actually just kill seven teenagers in broad daylight?" Casavir asked in disbelief.

Bishop continued to ignore him, walking between the hastily-slain corpses to lift something up. It was fuzzy and orange with a bit of white. "It's okay now," Bishop said soothingly to the puffball, which meowed in response. "I know that was scary, and I don't know why they were being so mean, but now you're safe."

"Is that a kitten?" Casavir asked.

Bishop continued to ignore him. "I'm a ranger, and my name is Bishop," he informed the kitten. "Oh, you don't have a name? Well, in that case, I'm going to name you Kevin Cronin!"

The kitten mewed.

"Oh, you're a female… well, your name is still Kevin Cronin. I'm also an _evil_ ranger, and I have to keep my reputation somehow!"

"Sometimes I forget you're a ranger," Casavir had to admit, "Usually I just think of you as some asshole that Lady Grace insists on bringing along who has disturbingly good aim."

"And that's Douche Bag," Bishop informed the kitten, who meowed in response. "We don't like him. And I have a wolf named Karnwyr, but you don't have to worry about him; he's decided to take a vacation by hanging out with our team's druid. You're cuter than he is anyway! Yes you are, yes you are!" he finished by cooing, scratching the now-purring kitten between the ears.

It was Casavir's turn to stare at Bishop in utter confusion.

Bishop walked over to the paladin, holding the (_awwww, how adorable!_ Casavir inwardly gushed) kitten in front of the taller man's face. "Kevin Cronin wants to know why you're in trouble," Bishop said in a tone he hoped held no sarcasm or bitterness. "You can tell her; she's very trustworthy."

"Old… Owl… aww, I can't withhold the truth from you," he said with a sigh, rubbing the kitten's nose, "It's a long story…"

* * *

"I can't wait until I rule the world," Qara said as the group traipsed through the swamp, "'cause I'm so going to burn this all to the ground!"

"Don't start," Sand practically growled. The swamp muck came up to his knees and he looked about as angry as anyone had ever seen him.

"It will be glorious!" the sorceress continued.

_The Great Destroyer of Worlds, Qara, stood over the scorched blackness of the terrain that made up her domain. The useless peons of the old academy – which now no longer existed because she'd burned it down – were forced to work in the fire mines, mining fire. It totally sucked for all of them!_

_The Almighty Qara's other slaves, fire demons she had summoned and bound, dragged a lone elf up to her Fire Throne._

_"Estuans interius, ira vehementi! Estuans interius, ira vehementi! Qaaaara! Qaaaara!" the Latin chanters chanted in Latin._

_"So the last of the resistance has fallen," Qara crooned down to the elf._

_"Though I may die, someone will always be here to fight you!" Sand spat back. He was beaten, bruised and blood covered most of his pathetic, weak, scrawny and not-at-all-attractive form. Eww, he was so ugly, like an ugly person!_

_"Oh really? You're the only living creature left on this planet, except for the fire miners. And that's about to change now isn't it, Sand? Bwahahahaha! Mwahahahaha! Cut out his tongue!" she demanded to her other slaves, the ones who had once been her traveling "companions."_

_"Yes Lady of Terrible Pain Qara," Grace intoned, her once-red hair now blonde because she wasn't allowed to dye it anymore._

_"Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo! How will I make asinine comments or cast Owl's Wisdom now?" Sand wailed._

_"Old Owl Well!' the boring paladin chanted._

_"GHA HA HA HA HA HA!"_

Silence.

"I'm a natural redhead," Grace said, not able to think of anything else.

"No you're not," Qara said, running her fingers through her own red hair.

"Mining fire?" Shandra asked.

Sand looked perturbed. "Can you kick her off the team?" he asked warily.

Grace sighed. "I'll try. Hey Qara... … …" She sighed as she accepted the inevitable. "Who's Johcris?" she asked bitterly.

"He's Glina's father," she replied smarmily.

"Sure wish we could get rid of some of these people," Khelgar muttered, "The demon thief, the bard, the bastard ranger, the tree hugger…"

"Hey!" Neeshka snapped.

"I don't know where I am right now," Grobnar said cheerfully.

"Who're you?" Grace asked Khelgar.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Bishop recounted as the two of them walked to Lord Pierval's manor in the Blacklake District, going to right wrongs, "You liked Ophala, who was engaged to Pierval." Kevin Cronin was sitting in Bishop's hair.

"Old Owl Well."

"So the two of you exchanged love letters and whatnot, but before you broke it off Pierval's son decided to kill you on behalf of his father."

"Old Owl Well is great."

Bishop had actually long given up on deciding whether or not he had the facts straight, as he had no way of verifying whether or not he was right. "So then you killed Pierval's son in self defense and left the city without telling anyone what happened. And then that Mordren guy, the one who told you you shouldn't have come back… he was just some guy, I guess." To an outsider, his hair mewed. "You said it, Kevin Cronin. And now we're going to talk to Pierval so that he can kill you instead of Ophala, because… he's apparently going to kill Ophala for some reason. Why not. Can I bring popcorn to this or what?"

"No you can't bring popcorn!" Casavir snapped.

"Hey now, I'm not the one who's banging the chick you may or may not have wanted to bang. I think. Wasn't Ophala a prostitute anyway?"

"Shut up."

* * *

The two men faced down Pierval, who was holding a weapon and standing next to Ophala.

"Casavir, I see. Have you come to kill me too?" Pierval asked.

"That makes sense because he killed your son," Bishop translated.

"Ignore him. I'm not here to kill anyone. I'm here to explain what happened."

"I'm not evil," Mordren said, "And I'm definitely _not_ manipulating everyone."

"You actually understand what's going on?" Bishop asked him.

"Sometimes," Mordren admitted.

"Harcus," Casavir began.

"His, Pierval's, son," Bishop interjected.

"Bishop, _shut up."_

"And how the hell did this chick go for _you?_ How does _any _chick go for you? You put the _dull_ in _paladin!_" Bishop proclaimed.

Casavir just stared at him for a few moments. He looked to see if any of the "audience" members acknowledged this; he was rewarded by their perplexed looks. "You put the _dumbass_ in _ranger_," he finally said with a sigh. "And do you want the duct tape back on so soon?"

"Seeing as you're here so that he executes you and you'll feel a little less guilty, maybe you should put the duct tape on yourself. Although why am I interrupting when this could end in your death? I'll keep my mouth shut," Bishop finished with a smirk.

Ophala tentatively said, "Could we please get back on track?"

"Harcus came to kill me because he thought I was sleeping with Ophala, but I wasn't and I have no idea where you got that indication."

"It certainly wasn't because I was filtering choice letters to him," Mordren said.

"Okay, you're named after the villain in the King Arthur legends, of course you're evil!" Bishop snapped.

"No I'm not," Mordren grumbled.

"Evil knows evil. And on a scale from one to ten, you're like a point-five on the evil scale. You're evil, but you're really crappy at it." Kevin Cronin meowed. "That's right, I'm a ten. Good for you! Fish tonight!" A purr responded.

"Mordren? Is he right? Are you really evil?" Pierval asked suspiciously.

"No?" Mordren guessed.

"Can I kill him?" Bishop asked.

"Is that your solution to everything?" Casavir snapped at him.

Mordren turned and jumped out the nearest window in order to avoid being killed for being so clearly evil.

"I hope you realize that if you hadn't started bickering that you could have captured him, or killed him, or something. Good job Casavir, you certainly are as useless as you used to be. Now get out of my house." Pierval said with finality.

Casavir pondered that piece of advice.

"Ah ha! There's only one 's' in ranger!" Bishop crooned triumphantly.


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Notes:

So I have to apologize to all the purists out there. I started off with the best of intentions, but somewhere along the lines Casavir and Bishop got almost completely out of character and started doing more of a buddy-cop thing. For some reason, no matter how hard I try I can't seem to get them back into character (which is really weird considering how they're both perfectly fine in my other fanfiction pieces I'm working on simultaneously). So, again, I apologize.

Anyhow, this is the end. Even if I didn't do such a good job with this piece, if I made you laugh or at least chuckle then it was all worth writing  For those of you who reviewed – thank you!! For those of you who didn't review – thanks for reading, and next time I'd love to hear from you!

* * *

VII.

Having "solved Casavir's problem" to an acceptable level of being solved (or so Bishop assumed, having not understood what was going on the entire time), the two men were left in the Blacklake District without any idea of what to do next. As such they sat on a fountain, Casavir deep in thought and Bishop using an arrow to catch a small fountain fish for Kevin Cronin.

Casavir had pulled out his dictionary that he used to make sure he was using the proper tense of "smite." He was scanning through it to find out what "ignore" – a word he had never used before – meant.

**ig·nore** / ig-**nawr**, -**nohr**

–_verb (used with object), _**-nored, -nor·ing. **

1. to refrain from noticing or recognizing

"_To refrain from noticing"? So, when he makes crude remarks, I simply do not respond… Interesting. I should try it. _

"Looks like I have led more lambs to the slaughter," Bishop cackled as he stabbed the water with an arrow.

"Those are fish. And lambs are cute, so you should stop saying that."

_Hmmmm. Well, that didn't work._

Silence passed, broken only by the sounds of the arrow going in and out of the water.

_Resist… urge… to smack him. Resist!_

"I'm working on it!" Bishop growled to Kevin Cronin, who was mewing impatiently. "Die, fish, die! I kill you and you go to fishy heaven!"

_But if I just act like I can't hear what he's saying, who will smite him?_

Bishop swore loudly as a fish bit his hand. Kevin Cronin fell off his hair, landing in the water with a yowl of rage. The kitten used her momentum to launch back out, latching onto Bishop's face and knocking the ranger backwards.

_Oh wait, everyone will. _

* * *

"Do you think the others will ever make it back?" Bishop grumbled, more to himself than to Casavir, as the two walked around the Blacklake District. They still had absolutely nothing to do, and as such were walking in circles around the district.

"So does _anyone_ have the courage to face Cain? How about one of you two?" the rocker bard, Cain, asked Casavir and Bishop as they walked by.

"Is that _bard_ taunting us?" Bishop sneered, displaying his characteristic hatred of bards (and people).

_Ignore means to pretend you don't hear him_, Casavir reminded himself as he kept walking.

Bishop threw up his hands in disgust as Casavir walked up the hill. "Where are you going?" he demanded, "The bard is taunting us!"

"Are you going to take up Cain's challenge?" Cain asked, his voice almost as scornful as Bishop's.

"Where are you going! _The __**bard**__ is taunting us!_"

"And look at that, yet two more too cowardly to take on Cain in a contest!" Cain crooned to the crowd, who started cheering him.

"I want your babies!" a girl screamed.

"That's it! I'll take you up on your challenge!" Bishop drew his bow and notched an arrow, aiming at Cain's head.

The bard threw up the lute in front of his face. "No, you lunatic, the challenge is to beat Cain in a _lute_ contest! A battle of musical flair, if you will."

"Oh." Bishop put down the bow.

"Since you accepted Cain's challenge, love, get out your lute and we'll start this duel!"

Bishop's look changed from annoyance to rage. "Did you just call me 'love'? Because I'll definitely have to kill you if you called me that."

"It's an expression, love. Do you have a lute or not?"

"I'm a trained killer, why would I have a lute?"

Cain gave a great sigh of disdain and the audience started laughing. "Trying to beat Cain in a lute contest without a lute doesn't make you evil, it makes you stupid, love."

"Quit calling me that," Bishop snarled.

"Here, take this," Cain said with a sigh, tossing an old, slightly-rotten lute to Bishop.

"What, did you pull it out of your ass?"

"It's reflective of your talents."

Cain and Bishop looked at each other with newfound respect.

Bishop ruined it. "Your mom appreciated my talents last night!"

Cain's mouth was ajar. "I… I… Did you just use a 'your mom' joke on Cain?"

"And my theory has been proven right," Bishop crooned.

Bishop's moment of glory was cut off when he was tackled by a full-plate-mailed figure who, while he had been walking away, soon came to realize that Bishop hadn't been following him and thus he had to make amends for leaving him behind (by tackling him, of course).

Once explanations were made ("_YOU_ LEFT ME BEHIND, YOU ASSHOLE!") and apologies were given ("I definitely enjoy ignoring you more than actually listening to you,"), the two men faced down Cain and the lute of questionable origin.

"Any chance you happen to be a lute master?" Bishop asked.

Casavir smacked him on the back of the head. "You actually got involved in a lute-playing contest when you can't play a lute. Why do you make me hit you?!"

"I'm sorry!"

"I don't like hitting you, but you make me so mad!"

"I hate you!" Bishop cried out.

"No you don't. You love me. You're just angry."

Bishop sniffled. "You're right."

"And I don't suppose you can play a lute either?" Cain asked, starting to look less full of contempt and more afraid.

Casavir sighed his denial of being able to do so.

"Are you serious? _Are we back in Neverwinter?_"

The people in the audience and the three men onstage all turned to look at the approaching adventurer group, which looked awfully familiar…

"How did we get _so_ lost that while traveling in a straight line south we made a circle coming north!" Sand demanded in a shrill voice unlike his often-calm demeanor. It was easy to see why the moon elf was upset – his robe was torn and stained and his hair was a good inch shorter and full of twigs and dirt. His companions looked no cleaner, but it sat less well on the normally immaculately-groomed mage.

"I… I have no idea," Grace admitted, looking haunted.

"Look! It's a lute!" Grobnar proclaimed in joy, running past the others and hopping on stage. He took the slightly-rotten lute from Bishop's grasp and adjusted it in his hands so that he was holding it correctly. "Hello, lute, I am going to play you! We will be delightful!"

"That's a gnome," Cain said, the disdain back in his voice.

"It's a _bard_ gnome," Casavir said, pushing Grobnar forward.

Grobnar's joy was manifested in the fact he was now shaking with glee and jumping up and down. "Oh dear! Is that an audience? I love audiences! Why, I should play this lute for this audience!"

"I wanna do something too!" Neeshka whined, her tail drooping.

"You can play an instrument?" Khelgar asked, sounding surprised.

"Sure I can! The priests of Tyr that raised me loved trying to make me play music in their choirs! I got to play the drums – which was a mistake on their part, because I definitely did not just keep a beat – I totally rocked those drums!" Neeshka bounded on stage and found a spare drum set (yes yes shut up).

"Well," Qara looked doubtful, "I had to learn to play the piano while in school – you know, like all good little girls do," she said that last bit with sarcasm dripping from her tone. "So I guess I can do something too…"

"Now someone needs to sing," Sand said, "And I happen to have a bell-like singing-"

Bishop had an angelic look on his face. Abruptly, he began singing, "I can't fight this feelin' any longeeeeer, and yet I'm still afraid to let it flooooow! What started out as friendship has grown strooooooooongeeeeer, I only wish I had the strength to let it show!"

"The hells?" Casavir looked confused, lost and nauseated. Grace had her hands clasped in joy.

"I tell myself that I can't hold out foreveeeeeer, I say there is no reason for my feeaeaar, 'cause I feel so secure when we're togeeeettheeeeeeer, you give my life direction, you make everything so cllleeeeaaaar… and eeeeven as I wandeeeeer, I'm keepin' you in sight! You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night!" He took a deep breath. "And I'm gettin' closer than IIIIIIII ever thought I miiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!

"And I can't fight this feelin' anymore!"

The audience members sang along, "I've forgotten what I've started fightin' foooor!"

"No, seriously, what's…" Casavir began again.

Grace clamped a hand over his mouth.

"It's time to bring this ship into the shore! And throw away the oooars, foreveeer!" Bishop's face was bright as he sang his heart out. "'Cause I can't fight this feelin' anymore! I've forgotten what I've started fightin' for! And if I have to crawl upon the floor," Bishop fell to his knees, the fangirls in the audience screaming in joy, "come crashing through the door, baby I can't fight this feeling anymore!"

"He's a damn good singer, fer bein' an evil bastard," Khelgar gushed.

"I wanted to sing," Sand complained.

Cain, in the corner, looked like he wasn't sure whether he wanted to cry or sing along. Meanwhile, Grobnar was rocking out the lute while Neeshka played the drums to her heart's content and Qara played her piano part. Elanee, who had shown up unannounced, sat off to the side, looking pleased, while her squirrels acted as Bishop's backup dancers. Kevin Cronin was functioning as Bishop's "backup singer" in that she was sitting on his head.

"My life has been such a whirlwind since I saw you," Bishop began the second verse, holding out his hand to Grace as would a typical rockstar, except that Grace pushed Casavir forward. The fangirls started screaming even louder. Bishop was way too blissful to even notice that it wasn't who he wanted to grab his hand and Casavir looked as if he wanted to run but was too embarrassed due to all the aforementioned fans. "I've been runnin' around in circles in my mind! And it's always seems that I'm follooowwwin' yoooou, giiiiiirl, 'cause you take me to the places that I know I'll never fiiiind!"

"_YES!_" Grace screamed. Shandra threw her shirt on stage.

"And even as I wander, I'm keepin' you in sight! You're a candle in the window on a cold dark winter's night! _AND I'M GETTING CLOSER THAN I EVER THOUGHT I MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!"_

Needless to say, after the song was over and Bishop and Casavir finished dancing, the audience – which now consisted of the entire city of Neverwinter and all its outlying territories – gave the team a standing ovation. Shandra fainted with joy, as did Bishop. And Cain resigned in disgrace, never to play the lute again.

* * *

Which left our heroes, all alive and conscious, back where they started – ready to embark for Port Llast.

"So boys, did you learn anything from this experience?" Grace asked our heroes.

The two men in question looked at each other. They had to come up with something that was both factual and positive; two things which they thought were mutually exclusive. There was a minute of silence before Casavir finally admitted, "He has the voice of a celestial angel singing a lullaby to a sleeping group of kittens." Kevin Cronin meowed. "I guess that means he's redeemable."

"But don't you want to redeem him in… another way?" Shandra asked mischievously.

Casavir wisely looked nervous. "I… I have no idea what you mean by that, my lady."

"And Bishop, don't you just want to defile him, dirtily?" Grace asked.

"Huh?"

"And me?" she said timidly. "In the middle?"

Realization dawned on both men at the same time.

"OH GODS NO!" they said together.

"Oh come on!" Grace whined.

"_YOU MEAN YOU MADE US HANG OUT SO THAT WE'D DO EACH OTHER?" _Bishop screamed.

"_I AM NEVER TOUCHING HIM_!" they continued, pointing at each other. "_**EVER**_!"

Sand reached up and dragged Grace into a headlock and covered her mouth, cutting off any more protests. "And that's something they have in common! Yes, they have reached a mutual consensus that they will never have sex with each other. Now let's go to Port Llast and actually accomplish something _before I set you on fire and spare us the trouble."_

"That's my line," Qara sneered.

"Maybe we could leave _them_ behind next!" Neeshka said cheerfully.

"_No!_"

"Fine," Grace muttered after Sand released her, looking dejected. "Let's go to Port Llast and get my life spared. You all suck, and I can't wait to get some _new_ party members who _don't_ suck."

"That will never happen," Khelgar said. And he was right.


End file.
